A New Beginning
by jRobot
Summary: Two years have passed since Sunnydale was destroyed, and the Scoobies are still reeling from the changes in their lives. Something has changed, and nothing is as it seems. In-depth character study, roughly follows Season 8 events until chapter 3.
1. Chapter 1: Perspectives

A/N:

Two years have passed since Sunnydale was destroyed, and the Scoobies are still reeling from the changes in their lives. What are their thoughts, concerns, and feelings in this transformed world? Read on, my dear reader, and you shall see. In-depth character study of Buffy, her friends, and many of her new recruits.

**Warnings: **Spoilers for Buffy Seasons 1-7 and Season 8 up to at least _Wolves at the Gate_. Strong language, angst, violence, character death, femmeslash, and possibly more later on. If any of that bothers you or offends you in any way, please don't read any further.

**Disclaimer: I hold no legal rights associated with Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the Season 8 comic books and am writing this on a non-commercial basis, for my own benefit and that of anyone who wants to read my work.**

Now, without further ado,

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**A New Beginning**

**Based on **_**A Long Way Home **_**by Joss Whedon and Georges Jeanty**

**Chapter 1: Perspectives**

_**·:: **__Somewhere in Scotland__** ::·**_

_She chose me! _Satsu smiles to herself. The months of training have paid off, and she's finally got a chance to prove herself on an actual mission! One of the surveillance satellites picked up some demonic activity near the base in Scotland, and Satsu has been assigned to the squad of four Slayers sent to investigate.

"This base is supposed to be Secret. That's secret with a capital 'S'," the mission commander had proclaimed at the briefing an hour or so earlier, "and that means no one – especially not demons – gets to know where we are."

The mission is strictly recon ("Get in, find out what's what, get out undetected, no heroics," Xander had reminded them moments before they had boarded the matte black stealth helicopter in which they are now seated). Satsu's job is simple – she has a streaming webcam strapped to her head and is there strictly on a journalistic basis – but knowing the commander, the famous Buffy Summers herself, Satsu might end up seeing some action, and, grinning to herself, she hopes that she will.

Satsu looks up from her black boots – the ones with the pink eyestalks (to hell with dress code; at least it got her noticed) – and steals a glance at her commander.

Short blonde hair – tied back in a ponytail for the same reason Satsu has started putting braids in her own hair: to keep it out of her way during engagements – frames a face that might have been called beautiful once, though no one – certainly not Satsu! – would ever make the mistake of telling her that. It is a hard face, with a small, sharp nose, and eyes (Satsu has never been able to decide what color they are, but they glint like amber in the cold light from the snowstorm outside) that have seen more battles than anyone can reasonably expect to survive in a lifetime, and Buffy – as she is quick to remind her recruits when they're acting recklessly – is on her third. Nevertheless, her skin is almost flawless, a side-effect of the Slayer healing abilities all the Potentials received two years ago, when Willow's spell made Satsu – along with over eighteen hundred other women across the globe – special, powerful.

Satsu's eyes drift downwards. Buffy is the only one in the small 'copter who's not wearing a breastplate – Kevlar plates reinforced with magic by the mystics in Willow's spellcasting division – and Satsu, thinking shamefully about the many dents and scratches in her own armor, acquired over the course of combat training, is awed by her abilities as a warrior. Does Buffy ever lie awake at night, the bruises still fresh on her soft pale skin, aching no matter how she turns?

Buffy is wearing a sleeveless red shirt with some sort of circular golden emblem Satsu can't make out from where she's sitting. She wonders how many scars that shirt is concealing, souvenirs from blows that even Slayer healing couldn't seal without a trace. She turns away quickly, hoping that Leah and Rowena, the other recruits in the squad, can't see her cheeks turning red at the thought of a shirtless Buffy. She should be thinking about the mission, like Buffy is doubtlessly doing at the moment.

**·~:~·**

Buffy looks up as the newest recruit turns away nervously. Buffy gives her a reassuring smile. _What's her name again? Oh, 'Satsu.' _Things used to be a lot easier. A few years ago, she knew – well, with the exception of Angel – who her foes and allies were. She used to have to face the problems of a small town. Now, remembering the names of the people in her army is the least of her worries.

_The thing about changing the world, _she thinks wistfully, _once you do it, the world's all different._

The pilot, _probably one of Xander's crew_, interrupts her thoughts over the intercom: they've arrived.

By the time Buffy slides open the door, the young women have all tightened their harnesses and hooked them to the metal rings in the doorframe with the same kind of long cords used for Search and Rescue operations. This isn't a Search and _Rescue _mission.

**·~:~·**

Satsu isn't prepared for the onslaught of frigid air that suddenly rushes into the vehicle, and she is forced to take a step back to avoid falling over. Now that the sound-proofing has been interrupted, the drone of the roaring rotors almost drowns out Buffy's voice as she calls out to them to jump. She holds up the fingers on her gloved right hand, counting down.

"Three!...Two!...One!"

The four slayers leap forwards in practiced unison, Satsu remembering to hold onto her cat-eared hat (so what if she's a Slayer? Pink can still be her favorite color!) with one hand at the last minute. She can feel the wind whip her hair back and burn her skin, and her nostrils feel like they're filling her lungs with liquid fire, and her lips are chapped within moments, and her eyes are streaming from the cold and the rushing wind, and her ears are roaring, but she doesn't care because she's a falcon diving towards its prey, claws outstretched, and Buffy is an avenging angel gliding like she was born to soar through the sky, and she is raising the pulse rifle in her hands, firing bolts of crackling blue energy towards the ground. Satsu is confused for a moment, and then notices that there's a strange shimmering in the air around the ruins of the abandoned church they're dropping towards. _So much for recon!_ Satsu thinks happily as the projectiles strike the barrier with a sound like cannonballs shattering against the walls of a medieval fortress.

Then she's falling toward one of the holes her commander blasted in the energy field. She is suddenly jerked back violently as the line stretches taut, almost losing her grip on her hat. She quickly grabs the cord with both hands as she's been taught, then reaches down to unclip it from her harness. Remembering to keep her hat safe this time, she watches as the others drop onto the roof. She lets go last, after Leah (Satsu's job as Journalist is to document what the others are doing), bracing her knees to absorb the impact of the fifteen-foot drop, and winces when imitating Buffy's light landing doesn't quite go as planned.

**·~:~·**

_Everyone calls me "ma'am" these days. _When Buffy springs from the helicopter, she is still contemplating everything that has changed since Spike's sacrifice destroyed Sunnydale, the place she had defended for more than seven years of her life.

Then the cold hits and Buffy has to force herself not to cry out as the harsh wind rips through her shirt like it doesn't exist, and she feels like her breasts are going to freeze off, and the snow blazing past her bare arms and face is a rain of daggers, each like Faith's, and they're cutting, slashing, biting into her skin, and _shit_, she _knows _this is what Warren felt when Willow's dark magic flayed him alive.

_I definitely should have worn one of those breastplates_, she thinks, mentally cursing herself for showing off to the recruits, for having to prove to them, no, to _herself_, that even though she's not the only Slayer anymore, even though her team has found eighteen hundred new Slayers, five hundred of whom are working for her and the Scooby gang, _she _is still special, still the leader. Yet she knows, feeling a sinking feeling deep in her stomach that has nothing to do with leaping from an airborne helicopter hundreds of feet above the ground, that she's _not_ special, that in a few years, recruits like Leah, Rowena, and Satsu will be just as experienced as she is.

Her mind is pulled back to the present and the mission by a strange iridescent shimmer in the air. It looks like some kid blew a soap bubble, kept blowing until it was the size of a small mountain, and then put a really old church inside it. The bubble's curvature acts to distort its contents, making the church bulge in a way that reminds her of the house of mirrors at the carnival her father took her to when she was eight, back when her parents were still speaking to one another, and by the time she's blasted through the shield and landed on the roof (she's heard reports of a similar defense system being employed near a demon nest one of Andrew's squads raided in Italy), she is back to worrying about her future relevance in the world she helped to save, the world she helped to create. There are already two other Slayers set up to be her, as decoys; one underground, _literally_, the other in Rome _partying very publicly – and supposedly dating some guy called "the immortal" –_ Andrew thought it would be _hilarious _for some reason.

_Here at command central, not so much with the hilarious_, she muses, peering into the building through the boarded-up door she dimly recalls asking Leah to pry open a moment ago. She wrinkles her nose at the acrid stench wafting through the opening. _No, at command central, it's more with the "What the hell am I doing?"_, she thinks even as one of the recruits – _Leah_, she registers in the corner of her mind – echoes her thoughts. Buffy needs to take out her frustration somehow, and at least there's one thing that hasn't changed: she's still got her demons. She smiles, grimly, and rushes into the building.

**·~:~·**

"Field's vaped and we're on the roof," Satsu hears Buffy report into her headset as soon as they've landed. She sounds commanding, in charge of the situation. Satsu admires the confidence in her voice.

"Access should be right in front of you," Xander's voice responds via the earpiece Satsu is wearing. All the Slayers have one, but Satsu's heard rumors that they're going to be replaced with telepathic communication as soon as the mystics are experienced enough. The thought of having a disembodied voice speaking in her head makes her shiver uncomfortably. She raises her left hand to steady the camera, then turns so that it is aimed at the access Xander mentioned. It's a door in the side of a tower and has been boarded up inexpertly.

Buffy's talking again. "Leah, open her up." Leah makes quick work of the wooden slats blocking the entrance. Satsu is pretty sure that she doesn't need to resort to her Slayer strength; some of the boards are so old that they seem to crumble at the slightest touch.

Buffy moves closer to get a look inside; Satsu follows her, aiming the camera into the murky darkness. "Can't see a thing, ma'am," she tells her leader. She raises her right hand to her mouth to chew on her nails nervously, then remembers that she's wearing gloves and that she's safe as long as Buffy's around. _This feels like a trap._

"Can smell a thing, though," Buffy says, and a sudden gust of wind lends credence to her words, filling Satsu's nostrils with a stench that reminds her of the time she accidentally left sushi in her room for three weeks while she and her parents were on vacation. Her eyes start watering and she has to force herself not to look away – she doesn't want to miss anything. _Be alert at all times_, she reminds herself, repeating the mantra that her martial arts instructors back in Japan drilled into her head and that her new teachers – Buffy prominent among them – have also adopted.

Suddenly, even before Leah has finished clearing away all of the boards blocking the doorway, Buffy vaults inside, hurtling down what Satsu suspects to be a spiral staircase.

"What th' hell is she doing?" Leah cries out in bewilderment. _She's the boss,_ Satsu says to herself, wordlessly beckoning Leah to follow her as she carefully steps over the remaining planks and begins to descend into the darkness. Shaking her head, Leah accompanies her, leaving Rowena behind to guard the roof, muttering something about not getting trapped between two groups of enemies.

_**·:: **__Scotland Command Center __**::·**_

_I used to be in construction. _Xander is tired. He's been working for over 38 hours without even a moment's respite, and it's starting to show – in the way his lone eye keeps trying to droop shut and the ounce of extra concentration he needs to prevent his words from coming out slurred.

"You're five-by-five, Buf." Oh God, he must _really _be tired – he's starting to sound like Faith. "Satellite has them," he takes a moment to glance at the touchscreen monitor in front of him, "clustered by the altar and our psychics read them as unaware. Soon as Rowena's placed, we're go." He almost forgets to make sure he's talking on Buffy's private frequency – he wouldn't want to spoil the training exercise he and Buffy have set up for Leah and Satsu.

_Damn_, he's tired. The pay was good, back when he was in the business of building houses rather than – more often than not – tearing them down. _Hours were better than this, _he thinks, briefly raising one of his hands to his eye, as if, by rubbing it, he can make his lethargy disappear, then returns it to his back, clasping the other firmly (he's convinced that the posture makes him look more like a commander). _They even ended occasionally._

_But when duty calls, you don't exactly get to screen._ Renee, a young Slayer sitting at one of the many high-end terminals arranged along the sides of the room, interrupts his thoughts.

"Mister Harris," the black-haired woman calls out urgently, "We've got a development with the Barcelona squad." Xander pivots sharply on one heel and strides off the dais in the center of the room to walk towards her. He admires the way that the light from the monitor plays against her olive skin. "Vamp nest looks a lot bigger than they thought," Renee is saying.

_Shit_. "How many in the squad?"

"Seven. Donna's running them, but they're pretty green."

Xander considers this for a moment. _Time to send backup_, he decides, finally.

"Andrew's still working Southern Italy – tell him to send his ten best, hop over," he replies.

"Roger that."

Xander smiles inwardly, relishing the feeling of being in command. Back in the old days, he never had much influence over the other members in the Scooby gang. Maybe if he'd been in charge, then Anya – he feels the skin beneath his eyepatch begin to itch uncomfortably. No, he can't think about that; he doesn't blame Buffy for what happened. Still...

"Tell him ten best. Not ten best _dressed_. We don't want another Orvieto." That mission had been a disaster. If it hadn't been for the squad leader's quick thinking, he doesn't think anyone would have made it out alive. He can't bear to lose anyone else.

**·~:~·**

"Yes, Mister Harris." Renee lets her fingers dance across the keyboard in front of her, relaying his message.

"'Xander.'" Renee looks surreptitiously over her shoulder as _Mister Harris _walks back to his pedestal. "Renee, I told you, it's 'Xander.' Or," and here his voice takes on a slightly mischievous tone, "'Sergeant Fury'."

It's hard to tell, but Renee has been working with him long enough that she notices just how tired he is. _When was the last time he had a full night's sleep? _she wonders. She wants to cheer him up.

"Wasn't Nick Fury a _Colonel _when he ran S.H.I.E.L.D.?" she asks, thinking back to what her parents call her "misspent childhood."

_Success! _Xander stops in mid-stride, turning to look at her. "I like him better in the Howling Commando days," he says, "But your nerd points are accumulating impressively." His smile sends a pleasant tingle up her spine.

"I try, Sergeant." She graces him with an impish grin before turning back to her terminal.

**·~:~·**

Markedly happier, Xander returns to his station, leaving Renee to her work. The satellite places Rowena on the roof directly above the church' windows. He looks up at the gigantic plasma screen covering most of the far side of the room, which is displaying the feed from Satsu's camera. Buffy has made her way to the door behind which the demons are located. Who does he think he's kidding? He wouldn't miss this for all the sleep in the world. "Okay, Buf. Game on."


	2. Chapter 2: Into the Fire

A/N:

Sorry it took so long for this update; I didn't have network access for a while. This chapter is encroaching on AU territory; I'm not sure in what direction I'll take this yet.

**Disclaimer: I hold no legal rights associated with Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the Season 8 comic books and am writing this on a non-commercial basis, for my own benefit and that of anyone who wants to read my work.**

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**Chapter 2: Into the Fire**

**·::**_Abandoned Church in Scotland_**::·**

Buffy's kick wrenches the door in front of her off its hinges with enough force to send it hurtling through the air, a blur of splinters and warped metal. Even before it comes crashing down, toppling one of the pews in the process, she's on the move again, surveying the area with the practiced eye of a Slayer who has learned to do this the hard way.

She picks out three hostiles at the end of the room, hemmed in on two sides by rows of long benches that haven't seen use since the church was sealed to the public, though that doesn't seem to have deterred the large hulking beasts standing – no, _slouching_ – in front of the altar. She estimates each of them to be at least twice her size, grotesque perversions of the humanoid form with thick tusk-like horns, feline legs, and reptilian tails.

Her thunderous entrance has clearly alerted the demons to her presence. The youngest has just been interrupted in the process of presenting an offering to what Buffy immediately identifies as the leader from its extraordinary size and the golden ring adorning one of its horns. The chieftain is directing a baleful red glare at her, its needle-sharp teeth still dripping with the fresh blood of the human victim now dangling limply from one of the smallest creature's clawed hands. A lone sliver of raw flesh slowly slithers down a scaly green chin to land wetly in a pool of dark liquid in which a man is already lying, facedown, his neck twisted at an impossible angle.

_Damn_. That changes things. The recruits behind her have never encountered human victims before. Buffy doesn't know how they'll respond; she has to distract them, get them past the shock before they freeze up. They can worry about the dead later, when the fight is over.

**·~:~·**

_There's so much blood_. Satsu swallows, hard, tasting bile in the back of her throat. She can feel individual droplets of cold sweat trickle down her back. She tries taking deep breaths to calm herself, but the combined stench of death, decay, and the uniquely pungent odor of the demons in the room is almost enough to make her vomit for real. She can't do that, not with Buffy there. Satsu watches in horrified fascination, unable to move, as the smallest demon tosses aside the perso–_burden_ it's carrying and starts lumbering towards her with steps that shake the building's very foundations. She tries, very hard, to ignore what sounds like a ripe melon hitting the stone floor.

"Recruits! Flank 'em! Now!"

Satsu's training takes over. Before she even realizes what she's doing, she has taken three strides in the direction of the creature, arms extended like lethal weapons. A blur of movement at the edge of her vision reveals that somewhere, far off to her right, Leah is mirroring her actions.

"Ssssilly little girrrl," the beast slowly hisses as it closes in on her, its anatomy clearly unsuited for the task of articulating human speech. A forked black tongue darts out from between its fangs to taste the air. Satsu knows that Buffy would come up with a witty response, but she is still too stunned to think of anything. Instead, she unleashes a wordless battle cry as she rushes the monster. Running purely on adrenaline, she instinctively ducks a powerful swing from a thickly muscled appendage. She can feel a buffet of displaced air tousle her hair.

Satsu senses, rather than sees, the next blow approach, a tail swipe, and avoids it easily with a quick step to the side. In that moment, her awareness of the battle is magnified tenfold, Slayer instincts guiding every move she makes. She is part of a deadly dance with the demon, effortlessly gliding around it like aether. She is part of the deadly dance, where one misstep could end her life. She is the water and the wind, striking with the power of the earth. The beast staggers backward as one of her leaping kicks strikes it in the abdomen. She is the focal point of the dance, mastering it, consumed by it. The pure, undiluted _danger _humming through her veins is unbearable. Incredible. _Intoxicating._ If only Buffy could see her now, she would – a sudden flash of searing pain shatters her concentration.

Satsu instinctively presses a hand to her cheek, feeling the wetness there. Several of the monster's flailing talons have carved a bloody trail into her flesh, extending all the way from her right ear to the outermost corner of her eye.

The small distraction is all the demon needs to press its advantage. A stinging backhanded swing striking her already inflamed skin causes Satsu to cry out involuntarily, and sends her reeling backwards into one of the pews near the front of the room, winded. _Be alert at all times. _As one of the beast's feet begins to descend on her from above, her only thoughts are of how disappointed Buffy will be with her.

**·~:~·**

As soon as Buffy finishes rallying her trainees into action, she charges into battle herself, pausing only to toss aside the metal weapon she's carrying. She doesn't want the recruits to think she's got an unfair advantage, and besides, she _hates_ guns, a view that has only been strengthened since Warren's attack on her roughly three years ago. Then she's closing in on the demon leader.

"I smellll your ffffear," the beast roars at her, accustomed to instilling terror in the hearts of its victims, to having them cower as it reaches down to crush them.

"Really? 'Cause all I can smell is you!" Buffy retorts, punctuating her words with a mighty jab to the inside of the monster's arm even as it swings at her, her own strength augmented by the creature's own actions. She can hear a satisfying _crack_ as her fist makes contact with the sensitive skin. The demon howls in pain, retaliating with a lethal jab aimed at her throat.

Yet Buffy is too fast. She spots a sturdy chandelier hanging overhead and surges up to grab it with all the power in her coiled muscles. Praying that the ancient chains supporting it are still strong enough to bear her weight, she uses her legs to swing backwards. The beast's surprised eyes track her progress as she flies forwards again, releasing her grip on the iron structure at the apex of her swing. She allows her momentum to send both her feet smashing into the demon's upturned chin as it claws the air in vain.

Buffy vaults over its head, performing a deft flip in the air that would have put any Olympic athlete to shame. She lands lightly on the balls of her feet, already spinning to finish the fight. Yet before she has turned around completely, she feels something cold and slimy wrap itself around one of her legs.

Before she has a chance to react, she's yanked high into the air, the monster's laughter echoing in her ears, a horrible cackle like rusted razors rubbing against one another. A single whiplash of the demon's tail sends her barreling through the air helplessly. She plows into the wall at the opposite side of the room from which she entered, scattering rows of – inexplicably – lit candles in a wooden container, which breaks apart as she lands on it. Her head strikes a solid gold cross, dislodging it. Scalding molten wax coats her body, searing, blistering her bare skin. _Fuck, that's gonna hurt tomorrow! _The embellished red cloth leading up to the dais Buffy has landed on is dry and dusty. Within moments, tongues of flames are licking at her flesh, scorching her wet clothing. She snatches up the fallen cross, gritting her teeth against the pain of the hot metal burning her hand – _Like I'm a vampire, _she thinks mirthlessly – and rolls to her feet, out of the inferno blazing around her.

**·~:~·**

Rowena, unseen by the combatants in the building, is dangling outside one of the cracked stained glass windows, following the action within with growing dismay. Satsu is pressed against one of the benches inside, about to be crushed; Leah is starting to turn blue, a misshapen fist larger than her head wrapped around her throat; and Rowena lost sight of Buffy after the largest creature flung her out of view from the hole she is looking through.

"I think you'd better give them a hand," Xander remarks, observing the conflict from afar via Satsu's camera as well as the device Rowena herself clipped to the broken pane of glass several minutes ago.

Silently, _as if dey could hear vit al te racket tey're makin', _Rowena signals the other two Slayers in her unit to drop down, indicating the monster attacking Satsu. She straddles the window, unholstering one of the twin harpoon guns strapped to her back with each hand. Rescuing the other girl will take more finesse; she doesn't yet know enough about the others – a brown haired Korean and a black-skinned girl who constantly blows pink bubbles with her ever-present chewing gum – to trust them not to hit Leah. Taking care to aim directly at the back of the creature's head with one weapon, she depresses the trigger, shattering the glass icon of the Virgin Mary in the process. Shocked and enraged, the beast lets Leah drop to the floor in a heap, reaching back with both hands to claw stupidly at the metal shaft now lodged deeply in the base of its thick skull.

A split second later, Rowena unleashes another deadly projectile, this one viciously ripping into the creature's throat with enough force that the triple-bladed tip protrudes several inches from its flesh. Large beads of thick liquid strike the ground with a rain-like patter. The demon topples over like a dead oak in a forest during a violent storm, landing with a loud thud, missing Leah by mere inches.

A rusted chain, already weakened to the breaking point by Buffy's earlier exertions, snaps, sending a large chandelier crashing to the ground. Rowena smiles, smugly, pleased with herself, and then looks over to see how her charges are handling the task of saving Satsu.

**·~:~·**

As the demon's distended paw comes smashing down, Satsu rolls to one side, scissoring her legs in the creature's general direction. One of her calves makes contact, making the beast lose its footing. While it is still scrabbling to find purchase on the smooth stone floor – _cat legs are _not _meant for churches_ – Satsu leaps to her feet, shielding her body with her hands in case the demon recovers before she can get her bearings.

She hears two solid impact sounds, like those of a butcher's knife cutting a thick slab of meat. A glob of a viscous substance strikes her wrist, and she looks up to see a metallic rod jutting out of the monster's mouth, and another from the center of its chest. The creature emits a sickening gurgle, spewing thick, bright green ichor from its maw. Satsu jumps away quickly as it collapses at her feet, then turns around, trying to find Buffy.

**·~:~·**

"I really liked that shirt!"

Her commander is racing towards the last adversary still standing, brandishing the cross in her hands like a deadly weapon.

"Foool! You want frightennn mmmighty Ushhhhrakk with ssstrange ssymboll alssso? I ammm not vampirrrre!" the demon rages at her, defiantly. It lowers its massive bulk to snap at her, viciously, as she draws near.

"Too bad; it'd make it a lot easier to clean up the mess," Buffy quips, thrusting the sharp base of the golden cross into the dense knot of bone above its eyes with all the power her enhanced body can muster. The blow fractures half of the beast's teeth and plunges the metal through its brain and into the roof of its mouth. She releases the cross, noticing that the malleable metal has molded itself to her grip. It appears that a golden sword has been driven into the demon's head up to the hilt.

Buffy looks up, brushing hair and soot from her eyes as Rowena approaches.

"Dat gives a hol new meaning to da vord cruzifixion," she says, admiring Buffy's handiwork. Buffy gives her a halfhearted smile that turns into a grimace as she realizes the extent of her injuries. Now that adrenaline is no longer coursing through her veins, she aches all over.

"Status?" she inquires, her voice muffled by a wracking cough that reveals just how much smoke she inhaled. "Status?" she asks again.

"Te recruts are bot fein. Dey haf som scraches and brooses, but dey vill liv. Ve are examinhing te victims now, marm," Rowena responds, in a professional tone, as if nothing had happened. Buffy is grateful for that. She follows Rowena over to where the other four Slayers are gathered.

**·~:~·**

Satsu watches the two girls approach. Even disheveled, with mussed hair, black smudges on her face, and burn marks dispersed randomly throughout her clothing, Buffy looks beautiful. As she draws closer, raw pink splotches of blistering skin on her arms become apparent. Satsu winces in sympathy.

She turns back to the body sprawled on its side on the ground to her left. The victim has short-cropped black hair and is wearing an expression of frozen surprise. Satsu's stomach churns queasily. As the girls in Rowena's group flip the man over onto his back, his bloodstained shirt parts slightly. Satsu notices a strange red mark, too delicate to have been created by the demons' claws, on what is visible of his bare chest.

"What is that, ma'am?" she asks her CO, indicating the symbol. An Asian girl she doesn't know produces a wooden stake, using it to reveal an unusual scar, a horizontal line with an incomplete semicircle passing through it. Satsu notes the outline of a diamond etched into the flesh in the upper left corner of the mark. She is overcome with a powerful sense of foreboding.

"That's been there for a while," Buffy remarks, inspecting the scar, her head cocked slightly to the side, "we should check it out – could be bad news. Satsu, zoom in; Xand, get this to Records, maybe send a copy over to Giles."

Satsu dutifully aims her camera at the victim's chest and manipulates the toggle switch embedded in the top of the gadget.

"That should do it," Xander tells her. "Nice job with the demon by the way."

Pleased, Satsu walks over to Leah, who is busy examining the other body.

"This 'un's got th' scratch as weel."

**·~:~·**

Buffy spots a glint of cold metal near one of the broken windows. She walks over to investigate, crushing shards of colored glass beneath her heavy boots. The glimmer turns out to have originated from the barrel of a large rifle leaning neatly against the wall. She hefts the weapon distastefully. _Definitely not one of ours. _Nor – the ludicrous image of the monster she killed trying to fire the gun with its hefty fingers flashes through her head – could it have belonged to one of the demons. _This doesn't add up. What were those guys doing here?_

Rowena interrupts her thoughts via her headset. "I tink te force-field belonged to te victeems."

It is clear, now, that they came here for a reason, that they knew what they were getting into. What little sympathy she felt for the dead men is gone. Buffy contacts Xander. They're going to have to look into this _very _carefully.

**·~:~·**

_Soon._ Far above their heads, unbeknownst to all of them, a dark, cloaked figure awaits, watching, waiting. _Soon..._ The unspoken promise lingers in the air long after the observer has gone.


	3. Chapter 3: Ripples

A/N: This chapter is fully AU.

**Disclaimer: I hold no legal rights associated with Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the Season 8 comic books and am writing this on a non-commercial basis, for my own benefit and that of anyone who wants to read my work.**

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**Chapter 3: Ripples**

_**·:: **__Scotland Command Center_ _**::·**_

The sky is a mottled dark gray as far as the eye can see. A soft mist rises gently from the water below, taking on the form of mysterious figures dancing on the scraggly hills of the moor. What little light is visible through the filter of the gloomy clouds obscuring the sun lends a solemn, unearthly air to the landscape, unblemished but for the castle in which Satsu is standing, her face pressed against the cold glass of a portal to the world outside.

Her brown eyes are clouded, fogged like the pane of the window through which her unseeing gaze is directed. _How did I let myself get distracted like that?_ she asks herself, clenching the fingers of her left hand hard enough to leave four half-moon shaped impressions on the meat of her palm. She unconsciously reaches up to the lacerations on her cheek, then tightens her jaw against the sudden flare of pain that results. Satsu glances over her shoulder anxiously, looking at the door behind which Buffy is talking to Leah. Well actually, judging from the tone of the loud voices she can hear behind it, _shouting_ would be a more accurate description. Biting her lips nervously, the girl waits for the gates of judgment to open.

**·~:~·**

"Sit," Buffy says in a flat voice, indicating a chair in the center of the room the moment the door is closed. She herself is balanced on the foremost edge of the lone dark oak table occupying the majority of the room. The surface is covered with mission reports, but its most prominent feature is a desktop computer decorated with the same metallic red and silver as her scythe.

"I'd prefer to stand," the young recruit replies, meeting the older woman's gaze defiantly.

The commander's eyes narrow slightly, and she glares at her subordinate until the girl complies, looking away quickly. Uncrossing her legs, Buffy stops leaning on her desk and turns the flat-panel monitor resting on it to face the recruit. "Mind telling me what the hell that was about?" Buffy demands, unpausing the video on the screen with the angry click of a button on the remote she is holding.

"Recruits! Flank 'em! Now!" Buffy's static-filled voice calls out from the speakers. The girl displayed on the monitor appears frozen for a split second, then looks around in every direction as if unsure of what to do. Finally, she runs forward blindly to meet the demon rushing towards her and begins flailing wildly at it. In a single sinuous motion, the demon reaches towards the girl one-handed, wrapping its bulbous fingers around her neck. The recruit batters at the beast's arm ineffectually for a few moments before her limbs drop limply to her sides.

Buffy freezes the frame there, turning toward Leah, who is just as frozen in reality as her counterpart on-screen.

**·~:~·**

"I..." she begins, her voice trailing off. The commander is looking at her with a gaze that says "_I'm_ _waiting_" just as clearly as if the words were spoken aloud.

Though she might not realize it, Buffy has started to tap one of her fingers on the wooden desk impatiently. Leah swallows nervously, wincing as the action irritates her sore throat. She can feel the moments slip by as Buffy's unwavering stare beats down on her. The silence is a hundred times worse than shouting would have been.

"Why th' hell'd we go doon thur in th' firs' place?" Leah asks, finally. "'Twas s'posed t' be a recon meeshun, no fightin'!" she continues angrily, her voice heating up. Her throat is raw from the strain, but she ignores it. "It's not like you didn't get hurt, neither!" She points accusingly at Buffy's burns.

"I had everything under control."

"Yeah, right!" Leah replies, laughing hysterically. Now that she has begun, the words are pouring out of her frantically, as unstoppable as an avalanche. "If you'd jest stook t' th' plan–"

"Shut up." Her commander's voice is cold as ice and eerily calm, an iron blade sheathed in silk. Leah's mouth drops shut seemingly of its own accord. "If there's one thing I learned in Sunnydale, it's that plans _never_ work out like they're supposed to. Yeah, it wasn't a recon mission. _Hell,_ I _planned _it that way for a reason. You obviously didn't get the picture, and you almost got yourself killed. If _I_ hadn't ordered Rowena to be there to save your ass, you would have." Leah starts to open her mouth to say something, but Buffy doesn't let her get a word in edgewise. "And there's no way I'm letting you out in the field again until you _prove_ to me that you can handle yourself out there. Dismissed."

Fuming, but unwilling to risk Buffy's ire further, Leah storms out of the room, an unreadable expression on her face.

**·~:~·**

The door trembles in its frame as it slams shut, but it magically remains on its hinges. Buffy approves; Willow's Wiccans have infused all of the doors in the castle with reinforcement spells as a practical part of their training.

When she is sure that Leah is gone, Buffy deflates visibly. _Was I too hard on her?_ she wonders. The stress of the last couple of years has taken its toll on Buffy's spirit, and she is afraid that it might be affecting her. She walks around the table, sinks into the second chair in the room – the more comfortable one – and lets her face fall into her hands. Early retirement seems like a _really_ good idea. _Why are demons so much easier to deal with than people?_ she wonders, and not for the first time. She massages her temples. For now, though, she should try to be a bit nicer. _I missed the heart my first time, too._

At that moment, there is a timid knock on the door and Buffy composes herself hurriedly. "Come in!" she orders, making extra sure not to raise her voice more than strictly necessary. The door quietly opens to admit the newest recruit, Satsu. The girl's eyes are downcast as she meekly turns around to close the door. Instead of sitting, she bends deeply at the waist with her hands clasped in her lap and her head lowered. She remains in the awkward position for several seconds while Buffy shifts uncomfortably in her chair.

"Ma'am," the recruit acknowledges, stiffly, and only then meets her commander's eyes.

Buffy inclines her head, trying hard not to reveal her discomfort. "Satsu." She must have failed though, because she sees the girl's cheeks color slightly as she finally takes a seat, her back ramrod straight and a look of utmost attention on her face.

The tension in the room makes Buffy feel like she is about to burst. "At ease," she says at last, breathing a quiet sigh of relief when the girl seems to relax the slightest bit.

**·~:~·**

"I let myself get distracted, ma'am," Satsu tells her commander. It is a serious breach of etiquette, but she has to let Buffy know, to make her understand... especially after the way she reacted to Leah's failure. "I – it will not happen again."

"Wanna tell me why I shouldn't kick you out right now?" Satsu swallows, her throat suddenly dry. Her entire body stiffens. Then she sees Buffy's face, her wry smile completely at odds with her gruff voice. _What–?_

"Everyone makes mistakes, Satsu," she says, standing up and walking around her desk. "Even me," she adds more softly, absentmindedly rubbing a patch of raw skin on her arm. "The important thing is not to let our mistakes control us. Not to give up because we're hurt or scared, because we're all there is; all that's stopping the vampires, the demons, from destroying the world," she explains. "You did well today, Satsu. And the important thing is: you kept going, even when you thought you weren't gonna make it. That's what _Slayers _do."

Buffy walks closer to her and gets down on one knee, resting her hands on Satsu's shoulders. Satsu tenses for a moment before letting her muscles relax under the warm, comfortable weight. The other woman's face is inches from her own, and she is seized with a sudden, irrational desire to _kiss_ her. Mercifully, she is able to suppress the urge.

"You could be one of my best fighters one day," Buffy says, seriously, her eyes boring into Satsu's so intensely that she feels naked under the gaze. This close, she can see that they are an alluring bright hazel. Almost too soon, the moment ends and Buffy gets to her feet again. "Keep up the good work," she encourages Satsu. "And," she smiles again, "don't let yourself get distracted."

"Yes, ma'am," Satsu promises earnestly, and takes Buffy's replying nod as her cue to leave. As she makes her way back to the shared sleeping quarters, the joy bubbling within her lends an extra spring to her step. Buffy was happy with her. And not only that, _she said _I_ could be one of her best fighters._

When she finally drifts off to sleep, it is with the memory of Buffy's tender hands on her shoulders.

**·~:~·**

As soon as Leah closes the door of the bathroom stall (courtesy of Xander's subcontracting), she lets the tears flow freely down her face. _Everythin' is so _fockin'_ unfair!_ She remains there, barely moving, for a very long time.

**·~:~·**

Outside, rain is still gently falling, drumming lightly on the barren exterior of the fortress, painting the roughly-hewn stone walls with soft, moist strokes. The castle looks bleak all alone on the moor. As the small wet droplets land, only to slide tenderly down toward the moat surrounding the building, one can almost imagine that it is the face of a large, forlorn beast, shedding silent tears. When the drops reach their destination, they impact the water with gentle _plops_ as they are absorbed, leaving fragile, intermingling ripples in their wake.

_**·:: **__Sunnydale Ruins, 3 days ago_ _**::·**_

It was dark underground, in the bowels of the earth._ Damp._ Roach liked it that way. He was happy there, protected from the wild vibrations of the world above. And even if it was colder than he generally liked, he was all alone in the darkness. There were no Furry-Monsters. _Nice here. Safe_, he thought.

Perhaps if he had been a less primitive organism, one more prone to introspection, Roach would have paused to wonder how that was possible; how those abstractions had ever entered his mind. In that case, he might have been more hesitant to approach The Light,when it came. Perhaps he would still be alive today. We shall never know.

On this particular day, he was scavenging – as he had done every day for as long as he could remember (and for many months beyond the reach of his memory). _Good food here. Yummy,_ he pondered to himself, scurrying onwards on his six long limbs. There were fine gray crumbs everywhere; he never had to travel far to find them. Sometimes, though, he got lucky and stumbled on Juicy-Food. It tasted of life and power. Roach was unusually large for his species.

At that moment, the ground quaked. Roach's entire body shook with an instinctive fear he had not felt for a Long Time. His feelers darted around frantically, processing the change in the world he had grown to know so well, to _love_ so dearly. The air hummed faintly, almost imperceptibly, but with a sinister hint of danger he would have been a fool to ignore. The ground quaked again. Yet before he had the chance to scamper more than a dozen body-lengths, Roach saw it: The Light.

It started as a slight blue shimmer somewhere in the distance. As the earth began to shudder more powerfully, it grew in intensity. This wasn't the harsh light of the world above, nor the dim glow of plants he sometimes encountered during his daily scavenging. This was something quite different.

The Light called to him and he felt himself drawn to it. It wanted him to come closer, to bask in its glory. _It is... beautiful_, Roach decided, not knowing that this would be the most advanced concept ever to pass through his mind. He slowly crept nearer, enthralled as by a Siren's song.

There was a very loud vibration in the air far above him, and Roach cowered beneath its fury. It seemed _happy_, somehow, yes, but at the same time he knew that it had nothing to do with him. The very core of his being, aided by the collective survival instinct of roaches everywhere, screamed at him to flee, to hide, to –

There was a very loud _crunch_, and Roach was no more.

**·~:~·**

"Ewww!" a young woman cried, attempting – with moderate success – to remove the remains of the most _enormous_ cockroach _ever_ from her left boot by scraping it against the uneven ground.

"Ewwwwww, wwww, www, ww..." the echo called back to her in response. She shivered, partly out of revulsion, and partly... it was spooky down here. _Ohhh! Still afraid of the dark, are we?_ a little voice asked her. Her feelings of triumph from mere moments before were scattered like leaves on the wind. _You'll alw__ays be mama's little girl, won't you? _

_But you abandoned me, didn't you? _a new voice – an old voice – accused her._ Worthless girl!_

"Shut up!" the girl screamed into the emptiness all around, heedless of the hundreds of copies of her own voice that bounced back at her, imploring her to do the same. "You can't hurt me anymore!" Then, almost in a whisper, she added, "You're dead."

_I'll always be here, wherever you go!_

"No!" the girl sobbed quietly, tears slowly running down her cheeks. She rubbed at them angrily, succeeding only in smudging the dirt on her face. "No!" The pain in her words was an almost tangible entity. It told a tale of loss, abandonment, and betrayal.

_Shhh, _yet another voice admonished her, gently. It was that of another woman, around her own age, yet calm and confident. There was a strange otherness to this voice that the others lacked. She didn't know where it came from, but she knew, somehow, that she could trust it._ It's gonna be okay; just a bit further. _Focusing on this promise and the hope that it offered, the girl brushed her matted blond hair out of her eyes and looked up to see a blue light nearby. As all the other voices faded away and the last echo of her outburst dissolved into silence, she strode purposely towards the light. She was safe now. The voice would protect her; she was sure of it.

**·~:~·**

The source of the sapphire glow was a large mirror-like object that seemed to dominate the raised patch of ground it occupied. Inexplicably, it was standing upright and unscathed amidst the surrounding debris. The charred and broken crossbeams of once-proud houses that had survived innumerable apocalypses acted in no way to mitigate the splendor of its polished and unmarked golden frame, which was ornamented with strange sigils and indescribable forms that morphed too quickly for the eye to follow. The surface of the artifact was strangely fluid, reflecting the girl in the ruins, sunlit plains, dark caverns, and dusty bookshelves, somehow all at once. Through it all, the Other looked on as the girl approached.

She had clearly seen better times. Her pale frame was gaunt and hung on her bones as loosely as the ragged, torn black rags she wore as clothing. Every inch of bare skin was layered with dust and grime and her hands were smeared with a mixture of dirt and blood – a result of using them to catch herself when she stumbled over a wooden beam or the odd desiccated corpse, blackened, mercifully, beyond recognition. Each step she took was weaker and more labored; her breath came out in painful gasps. The Other smiled, savoring the _taste_ of the power that flowed, invisibly, toward the mirror.

A dozen feet from her destination, the girl collapsed, her body wracked with coughs that stained her lips with dark liquid. _I'm here_, the Other told her, soothingly. _Get up._

Slowly lifting her head to look at the mysterious artifact, the girl attempted to get to her feet, but fell back to the ground again, sobbing desperately. The Other reached out to her with a tendril of thought, a _feeling_ of impending success and satisfaction. _Soon_, the Other promised.

Raising herself to her knees with quaking arms that threatened to give out completely at any moment, the girl began to crawl forwards, pulling herself along inch by trembling inch. _Yes_, the Other told her, unable to hide the triumph in the thought once the girl was kneeling within reach of the mirror. _Take my hand._

Ever so slowly, the girl raised a quivering hand towards the shining surface as the Other did the same, somewhere else. A hairsbreadth before contact, the girl froze, looking at the object as if for the first time.

**·~:~·**

"Y-you look like _h-her_," she uttered, accusingly, staring at the woman she saw before her. The woman had an ivory complexion even paler than her own and was dressed in a skintight garment of black leather that accentuated her bosom and flaunted her curves. Her shoulder-length hair was black as a raven's feathers, and framed a face that –

Her eyes were uniformly dark, obsidian orbs devoid of light, of emotion, _of_ _life_. There was no soul there.

The girl felt herself becoming lost in those eyes, in that terrible gaze, felt her mind begin to unravel. She felt herself falling – or was it flying? – purposelessly and without direction. _Yes_, the woman whispered, _but you've never seen me before_. _Take my hand._

There was no resistance left in the girl's body. As her hand reached the mirror, it passed _through_ the surface, only to be grasped by another hand, one infinitely more powerful. She felt a slight tug, and then the woman was there, looking down at her hunched form. It was over. Tears once again wound their way down her face, tracing familiar paths down her dirty cheeks.

"Shhh," the woman said. Her voice was oddly pleasing. The girl felt a cold hand brush the curtain of once-silky hair from her face and wipe the moisture from her eyes. She shuddered at the cool touch. "Don't be scared, Amy. It's time to go to sleep."

The sickening _crack_ that followed a moment later echoed throughout the chamber for a full five seconds before petering off into silence. She didn't even get a chance to scream.


End file.
